Distant no Longer
by Nerdene Hyrde
Summary: Joyride meets a character from a past she's forgotten.


Hey all, a new story. This one is purely by Dena, here as Krash. Hope you enjoy, and I don't own Transformers!  


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Joyride sat alone in the break room of the refueling station, waiting for the Hyrde's repairs from their last battle to finish. The rest of the crew were scattered about the station, visiting friends or what-not. She sipped on her energon and waited. For what, she didn't know. Seemed like she was always waiting for something…a memory, an explanation, a reason, a purpose…

She sighed and slumped in her seat, leaning on the counter in front of her. She could go looking for someone…Shadow perhaps…maybe Loki…maybe she didn't have to. Footsteps echoed into the room behind her.

Jetstream rolled into the bar with dark thoughts boiling in his processors. Unicron Damned Station. Unicron damned idiotic Merchants. It was their own damn fault that the ship's port thrusters would need a complete overhaul. Damned imitation navigators and their spark-chipped ideas to save time. Jetstream's pit-fire temper dwindled down to a spark-deep exhaustion. There was no way he could take another vorn of sitting there watching the so-called repair mechs trying to credit pinch a decent repair into being.

He thought this assignment would be a good change of pace, but all it proved to do was bring up old memories better left to rust. What he wanted more than anything was something to make the memories go away.

Right now the closest thing to oblivion he could get would be in the bottom of a unit of the highest grade this slaggin' pit of a place could come up with. Sheer instinct led him towards the bar and his current hope for escape.

Joyride sat in a dazed heap. She knew this…this…gruff looking seeker. She KNEW she knew him. But how? From where? And why the PIT did he have a Decepticon mark? Her mouth worked open and shut in a series of splutters as her processor whirled hot. HOW did she know him? She averted her shocked gaze as soon as he looked her direction. The answers weren't in the bottom of the cube, she knew that, but he looked a bit mean, and angry…

She gasped a tiny bit, trying to keep it quiet so he wouldn't look harder at her. It was HIM. Master…

Her optics flew back to search him out, now eager for him to notice her, despite his unwelcoming demeanor. Millions of questions burned to be asked, but she held her glossa. How did you start a conversation with a past you didn't know you had?

It took him a moment to adjust to the sight in front of him. The gentle curve of an oh-so-familiar wheel well brought back memories with such force that the overlapping images threatened to topple him. Forcing his intakes to cycle evenly, he forced his visage into an even tighter grimace. Pain made it easier. He had to remember why the femme sitting no more than a few lengths beside him could no longer remember him. A tight thread of anger worked its way back into his thought process. That's right. Remember the anger.

One of the first lessons he'd taught her was that anger could override nearly any emotion. He could use the anger in place of his rapidly crumbling control. He had to run across her sooner or later and her very lack of reaction showed how well he had done in wiping her memory. From the corner of his optic he noticed her glance up again. Was that ... recognition? Or was that fear in her expression? Now was not the time to find out. He wasn't ready for this. Forgetting the need for energon he turned to leave, intent on finding someplace more hospitable where he could nurse his wounds in solitude. Drinks be damned...

No! "No, wait!" No, he couldn't leave. "I…Master…" She stumbled off the stool and tripped over two chairs in her desperate haste to get to the blue and black seeker before he left the break room. Right before she reached him, she tangled over her own feet and had to grab onto something…anything to steady herself. That 'anything' happened to be Jetstream's arm. She let go at the glare she received and fell flat on her aft. Embarrassed and shocked, she looked up to see if he'd at least stop leaving.

Jetstream faught his own startlement over the jumble of parts recently clinging to his arm. That one action, that series of trips and stumbles, drove home how terribly wrong his plans had gone. Somehow the very memories of him that should be gone were coming through but ages of training had disappeared. A wave of guilt washed over him as he wondered how defenseless his actions had left her. How much did she remember? Here was not the place to discuss this. Glancing to the side to count witnesses...and possible liabilities, he grabbed up the small femme and tossed her into a side utility room. A quick scan proved the privacy of the area before he reached out and snatched her off the ground. Slamming her against the wall with just enough force to impress the gravity of the situation he brought her up to optic level. "Tell me...WHY did you call me that? WHAT. Do. You. Know!" He had to fix this. He couldn't just leave it like this, but he needed a second to think.

She calmly gripped both hands around the powerful hold at her throat and just dangled, staring helplessly confused at HIM. "I—what? I don't know…I just know I know you. And that you were my Master…" Why was he doing this? Well, she knew it felt RIGHT for him to treat her this way… But why? She shifted her feet against the wall, trying to brace herself and ease the pressure. One hand let go of his arm and tentatively reached out to his face. She knew that face, that hard line of mouth…never soft. Never. "I don't know how or why, but I remember bits of you…"

Bits of him? Slag. The virus he planted must have only partially completed and she was far too quick a study not to put two and two together. Nearly too late, he realized she was reaching for him. Supressing his panic, he managed to jar her enough to make her grasp at his arm for balance. Horror rose at the thought of her touch and threatened to choke him. Somehow, impossibly, her very movement bought to mind flashes of a time where he was almost happy, almost perfect.

"Keep your digits to yourself, brat!" Painful memories pushed him to fling her as far away as possible and at the same time keep as tight a grip as he could so she could never slip away. Staring into her confused optics, he felt the old helplessness rise up. "ARGH!" Still gripping her armor he dropped to his knees. Memories felled him more surely than any weapon and he was at a complete loss as to a resolution.

She was caught between an old feeling of restraint and a new feeling of sympathy. There was something wrong with him, too. She was too small and too far away to do much else than gently rub her hands over his arm…she really wanted to hold him. He was her history, her past, she just knew it. If she were able to speak with him, maybe she could be whole again. Maybe…was he mad because she couldn't remember him clearly? Maybe they had been closer than Master and Pupil? Why else would he act like he both wanted her close and far away?

It took a bit for her to realize he'd called her 'brat'. Was she so very much beneath him, then? She remembered flashes of pain, of being taught to turn it to her advantage…of liking it. She very nearly couldn't get pleasure otherwise, now. If it weren't for gentle Caz and sweet Blazer, she'd not have known she could get off on less than torture. It just tasted right, when the energon ran hot with danger like that. And she knew it was because of him. He taught her pain. Questions and more questions…but first, he needed her comfort.

That was another memory. Them comforting each other over something very sad. VERY sad. So much so that she nearly shook with the emotion's memory. How could she remember the emotion but not the reason? She struggled closer now that she had a foothold and wrapped herself around his arm as much as she could…as much as he'd let her.

Warmth encased his arm penetrating his despair in shards of reality. Amazing how much the small femme could mimic the actions of someone she had barely known. His engines fought to keen. Gasping through his intakes, he struggled to lift up his head. He hadn't even realized he had dimmed his optics until he found the need to online them again. Stupid. That was dangerous here. Especially now. The gentle stroking along his arm sent the encouragement he needed to face this missing piece of his past he held.

Swimming through those memories, he looked up halfway expecting to see the familiar face of Bell smiling back at him with that infuriating grin of his. The sight he saw instead managed to sober him more than enough. He took a second to steady his expression by telling himself that this is the sole reason that he would never see Bellweather or Dispatch again. Whether that was true or not didn't matter at this point, all he had to do was keep the thought in mind while he worked this out. It may be the only thing that kept them alive.

"Femme..." he paused. He couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't deny at least their familarity, "...'Ride I need ya ta concentrate..." He tightened his hand enough to pull a small sound from her vocals. "I need ya ta tell me all ya r'member. Can ya do that 'Ride?"

Ride…yes, that's what he'd called her. "I…" She thought over the struggle he seemed to have with…whatever was between them. "I remember you teaching me things…combat, piloting…" She lowered her voice, "…pain…" Taking a deep breath, she inched closer along his arm. "I remember a lot of sorrow, but not why." At that frustrating lack of knowledge, she lost it. "I don't know WHY! I have all these memories of emotions and pain and these things just keep happening that I don't know about…"

She shuddered, near hysteria. "Do you know what it's LIKE not knowing who or what you are? I have blades popping out for no reason when I train. I didn't even know I had them, but I knew how to USE them. Do you know how WEIRD that is? How many times my friends look at me like I'm a freak?"

She pushed away a bit but grasped a hard hold onto his collar seam with both hands. "And you know me. You're the only one I've ever come across that I know knows me. PLEASE." She shook him what little she could. "Please tell me who I am." She ended with a plaintive note, searching his face for any sign of compliance, any sympathy in those hard lines.

"Slaggin'... For one of the..." smartest. He couldn't say it. "Damn sparklet! I've seen ya, but it'd be better if ya jus' forget ev'rythin!" He yelled his frustration into the room, his control slipping too fast for him to gain a hold. Clamping his jaw shut, he suddenly dropped his head to her chest and crushed her to him, breaking her grip and pulling her off balance. So much work, so much planning, and it all crumbled to dust from his own miscalculations. Shaking was the closest he could come to sobs here. In between shudders he listened intently to her system's purr.

Her engine, the systems he'd upgraded himself, the additional fuel cells, weapon after deadly weapon he'd crafted into her system... he should have known she'd never be content to hide. That was why he'd left her there, offlined in the midst of a battlefield where the Hyrde was sure to find her. He'd tried everything to get her out of harm's way and set her free of these chains... and, if he were truthful, away from where she could evoke old memories in him he'd rather have left in stasis to fragment. Nothing about her was ever easy. "Ya always did take the slaggin longest time to see what's in fron o' ya..."

Optics fluttered in confusion. His arms felt so GOOD around her. Like she was HOME. She relaxed into his hold, wrapped her arms around him, held him just as close. "I've been too long forgetting. I'm tired of it. I want to know…Jetstream." She nuzzled into his audio. "The only thing in front of me right now is you…" She was so tired of oblivion. Primus, what did he know that was so bad? She curled into him tighter, hoping he'd just… She whispered, begged, "Please tell me. Please, Master?" A little brush on his wing, perhaps? "Please, Jetstream?"

He let out a coughing laugh at that. "You always did beg so perfectly. No wonder it was always so easy to work over the cons." He let out a deep cycling sigh. So much had changed. Even her touch felt... different. Not unwelcome necessarily, just... odd. Those long bouts of mourning together could never be recaptured. No matter what had happened, at least she still felt like the last bit of home that he was allowed. Taking another deep breath he prepped himself to begin some sort of explanation. This could never work without it and she would be content with nothing less than a satisfactory explanation.

Knowing he may have solved the problem of keeping her away with what he was about to say he took the opportunity to run his hands up her back as he stood. A stroke that nearly ended in the familiar pat of the helmet he was so used to at least reminded him of the countless times he'd carefully repaired those plates after their bouts of training. He prided himself on his work and he studied her with an appraising optic. Not too bad, but he could well see repaired plates and welded seams done in an -almost- professional manner. He knew he was delaying the inevitable. Tracing the last seam up, he finally met his ward optic to optic... and stepped back. He'd expected confusion, hurt, stubbornness, even anger... but what he saw burning in those orbs looked closer to... lust? He had to be misreading somehow.

She shuddered at the fingers trailing up her back and over her helm. It was difficult not to lean into that hand, its warmth. Words of praise coming from him had an old hollow ring of happiness, something to indicate he'd not given them often. She looked up at him from the floor, up at him like the mentor she knew him to be…Vindex and Shadowsinger had been her firsts, or so she thought? No, there would be more in his reaction, the touches, if they'd been closer. She looked over his frame. Not that she'd have complained, he was rather nice to look at. She pressed her dermaplates together to keep from licking them. She gently repeated her plea. "Tell me about us, Master."

...and his last grasp at control over his expression fell. "Ri... Joyride, I admit I..." He couldn't continue, couldn't think. He must have been reading her wrong. Her mimic of subservience helped him to remember a bit more of the old Ride he knew, but she had... matured. Or at least tempered her reaction with something he'd not seen in her before. Setting back on his thrusters, he came to the conclusion that starting at the beginning from a point she had never known might help give him time to collect himself. He shifted back a bit more to lean against the far wall and fought the urge to drag her back out into the open. Wings weren't made to be confined...

He saw something flash through her optics again, curiosity warring with confusion and something else. So she HAD learned a bit of patience somewhere... good. Maybe telling her wouldn't be the best way to go. Perhaps showing her instead... her old submissive behavior, even coupled with her new reactions told him he could still handle a direct uplink with her.

... and maybe get a good idea of what she'd been up to. Underhanded, but he was supposed to be a Decepticon, after all... "Come'ere, Brat."

She grinned at his continued use of a nickname she'd not heard for vorns and stood up, stepping the last half step closer to him readily. "Y'know, most call me Krash now, on account that I'm such a clutz on my feet. I can fly like nobody's business, though!" It was important that he knew she could still fly well. She deepened her grin at her own cheek, knowing he'd probably see through to the approval she still craved. It was rather strange for him to feel so familiar and foreign at the same time, but she eagerly awaited him, looked up at him with utter trust.

So part of her attitude may have more to do with trust, or at least trust in her fragmented memories, than with obedience. Hmmm... he'd have to remind her to be more careful. He grinned as she swayed closer while she babbled on about her skill she still 'remembered'. He mentally flinched at the thought that the skill he least wanted her to learn was the one thing she most connected him with. In a parody of gentleness he lifted his hand up to take hers. Her negligent compliance was at least partially an act. He watched as she followed his movement covertly, as she hoped for something, some tidbit of approval, to show in his actions.

The familiarity of her response tugged at his humor chip. He couldn't help but anticipate her reaction to what he was about to do. She could never hide her reaction to this. Instinctual reactions programmed at sparking always overrode any conditioning he put her through and he silently celebrated everytime she proved strong enough to shine through.

He was…captivating. With his dermas twitching, optics intently focused…she was mesmerized. And confused. Something told her to put a little bit of guard up when he reached for her hand, but all he did was hold it, look at it. Her mouth opened to say something flippant, to try and diffuse the confusion in her processor, but then something flared in his optics…pride. Appreciation. What…? If this were any other bot, she'd be melting into him right about now. Even being who he was, she still wanted to. Air shuddered through her vents in anticipation of…whatever he did next.

He loved her confusion. This infuriating femme all too easily pushed him off balance and he needed something to fight back with. It would make this process so much easier... once again he felt her sway towards him, timing his actions to take advantage of her movement towards his. He let a bit of his grin show. This is how he remembered her. Obedient, trusting. Soon he'd find out how deep that trust in him went. He couldn't bring himself to believe all his training had been eradicated that easily... and there!

One swift pull on her arm and... and she nearly toppled him as well!? She wasn't kidding with the nickname 'krash'! Battle-sharpened reflexes allowed him to catch her in time, but the indignity grated at him. Still gripping her wrist, he clamped his legs together hard around her lower torso effectively incapacitating her while he brought his free hand up

around the back of her neck, searching for the circuitry. Oh, he knew she hated that! He wondered briefly what her reaction would be when she recovered and chuckled to himself. Well, he'd have her 'extras' off line in a second and there really wasn't much damage she could do with a single hand.

He tightened his hold a bit more. This still could be an act and small as she was, he'd ensured she be a package of rage and damnation on the battlefield when necessary. He grinned to himself at the memory. Unicrons thrusters, but she was a beauty on the battlefield. The slaught she was capable of alway tempered with nearly instant reactions and accessment... she was one one the mechs who could THINK past the battlelust and it was GLORIOUS.

What was—"What are you doing?" She REALLY didn't like anyone touching the back of her neck…she wasn't sure why, but she immediately tried to counter with her curved melee blades in her forearm. Nothing popped out, though. She tried again. "Gah!" Nothing. She'd felt him click something back there. "What did you do?!" Deciding to change tactics, she dropped her head and rammed it up under his chin, forcing her entire weight forward to knock him off balance and into the wall behind him. His wings would keep him there for a bit…

"Slaggit!" He nearly laughed out loud! At least her reactions were in place, even if her memories were gone. If she had those memories, she'd have known how hard he'd worked to perfect this hand to hand just to train her as a ground mech. Despite his

size, he still managed maneuvers that would make many a mech cringe. "Good move, 'ride, but..." with that said, he took in is surroundings and made a decision. Loosening his locked legs around her form, he let her take a moment to try and stand, Hands still locked around her wrist. He watched her get to her feet in an attempt to pull back, most likely to run. "Slag this is gonna hurt..." Once again he snapped his legs together, only this time

he caught her ankles. Not good for holding her, but perfect for knocking her off balance again.

Then, in one fluid motion, he pulled her by the arm back towards him. Using her momentum, he slid sideways off the wall and springboard his legs in the air with a snap. Partially engaging his shoulder cannons into place, he used the combination of movements to roll both of them back over his left wing intending to use his weight atop her to help keep her still. His calculations went awry when the end of the wing crumpled under their combined weight. Slagging Primus! That hurt like the Pit! Somehow in the jumble of limbs he still managed to pin her face down on the floor, one arm twisted behind her and one arm flailing about. A quick cuff to her shoulder dented the armor enough to limit the movement of the waving arm. Slag his pride! That's what he got

for showing off! It's not like she was actually going to escape!

She roared in frustration. "You Pit-spawn, what the frag do you think you're doing?!" Her limited movement under his heavy frame did nothing but make her angry. She slapped her free hand against the ground, trying to at least ram an elbow or SOMETHING into him, but it was futile. He was just too slaggin' big. "Just what in Primus' name do you think you're gonna accomplish with this, Jetstream? All I wanted was information! Slaggit that HURTS!" She reared her head back to butt him, but missed, dropping her forehead to the hard metal beneath them in a temporary defeat.

"Thaaaat's a Femme." Linking into her systems caused a noticeable shudder run down her frame. Odd. That was new. Uplinking showed something else new as well. Someone had... upgraded her firewalls considerably and with a deftness he hadn't run across before. "Well, at least someone is looking after ya' in that band a misfits..." The defenses were impressive to say the least. Not only were they a passive barrier, but they appeared to be an active defense, ready to latch on to any outside intruder.

His satisfaction at the handiwork dimmed as his searches failed to find a flaw in this new internal armor. His grin turned into a scowl and he considered his options. Well, in this case he didn't need to break it. All he needed to do was find a 'ride' in. That he could do, seeing as it was her own memories he was feeding back into her. "Shhh... this won't hurt much if you don't resist... Open up, little Femme. Open up Joy...ride... Open up, slave..."

The last part was said mere inches from her dermaplating as he ran his hands up and down her one loose arm, stroking as if she were some beloved pet he need to sooth. As she relaxed in, engine beginning to purr, he tried the firewalls only to flinch back at nearly getting caught in their trap. Below him a startled noise broke through the roar in his processors. He looked down to see the tip of one clawed finger digging painfully into her armor. "At least there's more than one way ta shell a 'bot.'" and without another word, he plunged his thumb into the scarred armor on her back. "Ah well. That seam needed ta be r'worked anyway!"

She cried out in the midst of lovely pain. His words, rumbled quietly against her face, felt so much like Vindex hovering dangerously above her that the intrusions felt like the build-up to masochistic interfacing. Whimpering and panting, she struggled to tamp that down, knowing that wasn't what Jetstream wanted from her…or was it? He crooned comforts, called her slave…did he not know that was as good as kissing her?

As soon as he penetrated her back beneath her wings with a digit, she knew she was lost. Thoughts of her fellow crew members streamed through her mind, foremost being the time Blazer had carved into her back with her wrist blades…oh, that had been lovely. Her processor then jumped back to Vindex, his cruel fingers slicing through her circuitry and wiring for the first time. Her first time… Why hadn't Jetstream been her first?

"That's a very good femme... Have a tidbit for your struggles." Gathering up one of his favorite memories of her training like energon to a puddle, he began to feed her in an agonizingly slow transfer. He needed her to draw him in. He had to force her own walls down by dragging him into her processors herself. Oh, she'd like this one. It contained a battle between her and a Decepticon that had the misfortune to get on his bad side. She'd beaten him senseless and had come running to him, still dripping in the poor slagger's fluids, to demand another story about her parents in payment.

He stopped the memory just as they'd settle down to begin... smirking over his shoulder at her, he watched as she started to thrash, frustrated over the abrupt ending of the memory. "You want more? Fight for it, Joyride. Fit the pieces..." he dropped tidbits of information in between his words. "...Fill in the blanks..." A snippet of her first blade lesson... "Read between the lines..." His welding a patch on her knee... "Remember what I taught you?"...stealth training on a lush planet... "Nothing's worth having that's not worth fighting for." Him defending her from an officer in the Decepticon army... "Show me your need for this..." Her tied to the wall as he twisted her spokes, one by one... "Le' me in..." He rumbled each word into her processors as well as purred them out loud, emphasizing each plea with another tear along the offending seam in her armor and a stroke to her exposed side. He would get himself in and she would fight to let him do it... one way or another.

She fought between passion and ANGER. "DAMN you! You've ALWAYS kept things from me?!? Do you ENJOY dangling my life in front of my optics like some Primus-damned ENERGON GOODIE?!" She moaned into the ripping, the strokes. "I'll let you in, you bastard. Just so you know what it feels like to be like ME." With a final cry, she dropped what defenses she could, yanked him into her memories and flooded every damned thought she could into his processor. He wanted a fraggin' uplink, she'd give him one PIT of an uplink!

All her sadness, her confusion, her loneliness, every horrible day that went by that she knew there was someone out there who knew who she was…the day she remembered Jetstream, that she'd been a Decepticon pilot…buffing Shadowsinger…falling into a habit of watching those around her to simply try to understand how others ACTED…and then with a vengeance, she flooded every interface she'd ever had into him. Every touch, moan, cry, rip, tear, beg, EVERYTHING. It was almost enough to overload her, but she held on, angry to her very core at his arrogant damned dangling.

Jet let out a sob of air. She was in there. He hadn't destroyed her! Heaving himself up a bit, he allow himself the briefest moment of weakness in his relief. Belatedly he realized she awaited his reaction, but nothing could penetrate this mix of emotions he found himself engulfed in. As a desperate measure to stall, he pushed bundle after bundle of feedback memories into her... emotions... so close to the surface, so easy to access, as safe in and of its self as he could possibly release to her in this moment. Love, fascination, anger, pride, need, accomplishment... all interlaced with the sharp flavor of the pain he'd taught her to endure and twist to her own use and accentuated by pinpricks of enough fear to impress the desperation of their situation. She wasn't able to take the brunt of it yet, not with the company she kept and her allies... companions... friends... that were so new to her. All the feeling that he suppressed was carried into the message as well, too confused to be read clearly, he hoped it carried the message enough for her to understand his... affection for her for now. It would take her a bit to sort the memories out, hopefully enough time to gather more complete files to give her while he recovered.

Anger was overshadowed by…by…everything ELSE. He took it all, drank it all in, everything she gave him and then shoved more back into her. It was too much! She couldn't think, couldn't rationalize, just accepted the…admiration? What? Ageless memories of pain arced through her system, emphasized by the reality tearing through her back and sides. "Ngh…Jet…Jetstream…AAAAAaaaaah!" Relief and release confused and coursed through her, killing any doubts that he meant to hurt her for any reason other than her own gain. "Why…?" She mewled out that last little question before completely overloading with excess information feed…so many emotions…

"'Ride, are ya…RIDE!" A cascade of alerts went off in his meta. Joyride convulsed briefly calling out his name before going limp. Had he imagined her asking him 'why?' Nightmarish images bombarded him of her sparkless appearance amidst the slaughter of the battlefield. "Joyride! Answer me, DAMN YOU!" Nothing in her system was reacting to his attempts to revive her. Picking up her limp form, he flipped her over to cradle against his chassis as he started to growl. One hand groped blindly at the rend in her back, trying blindly to close the seam in a hopeless attempt to undo his actions. He hadn't realized the extent of her instability. SOMETHING happened in what he thought was a simple transfer of information.

She felt him handle her, flip her over, CRADLE her…she moaned but was too far gone to really say anything. Warm…nice…the only thing she could think to do was snuggle into him, resting and sorting through the information he'd fed her. It was nice to know there was someone out there who cared for her, thought about her. The information wasn't what she really wanted, but it was good. A good beginning.

"'Ri…" He paused as he heard a soft sound below him. Did she just moan? He leaned closer to her, engines cycling in preparation to carry her systems as well if necessary. "'Ride?" he stilled his engines in order to hear her better, intakes pausing while he listened. No sound was forthcoming, but movement left no doubt that her spark still pulsed.

Did she just… snuggle him?! His surprise gave way to irritation. One of the most brutal seekers in the Decepticon army was reduced to the status of a berth toy. He dropped her in disgust. No longer afraid of her systems status, he reached to pop the uplink away with a firm snap… only to find the data connection was still there! Optics widened in reaction. This… was not good in the least... A quick prod revealed a link on a very primitive level. He fought uselessly to hide or delete files that he didn't want her to have, or slaggit, that she didn't need access to! The attempt was hopeless though. Even as he worked, she started to revive from her… experience. His time of explanation was finally at hand and there was no way for him to lie now. No place to hide. All he could do was hope for her forgiveness when she found out.

Information was trickling in, images of known but unknown bots slipping over her processor. Her optics came online to see Jetstream staring at her with a mixture of horror and disgust. Well, THAT wasn't the most pleasant expression to see right after an overload. She cocked an insouciant grin up at his panicked expression. "Heh, still got a stick up your aft, I see." She blinked. HOW did she know that he'd ever had a stick up his aft? Her intakes gasped. It was there, all there! Ready for her to just TAKE. His optics narrowed at her fierce attention. This was the door to everything she'd ever wanted…with a ruthless sneer she dove her search into his drives.

Patch. Dispatch. He was a neutral ship. He and Bell…Bellweather the pilot…were tightly bonded. They were the ones who merge-sparked her. Air left her in surprise. She'd been WANTED. Not just some accident, like those created from the All-Spark. A thirst for more pulled her further still…they were all happy…all…FOUR of them… Jetstream was in love with her creators. He was bonded with them on a lesser level…felt the pain acutely when they'd died. Bell died first, killed by an anti-aircraft missile while piloting Dispatch through unmarked territory on Cybertron. Patch followed because of their lifemate bond. Jetstream yanked her from Patch's carcass and flew her out of the budding war zone to their quarters in Kaon…before the war. Just before it, really. Jetstream joined the Decepticons…to protect her.

They'd been in the RIGHT when the war started. She knew somewhere along the way, in the eons that followed, meanings and priorities shifted… her history from the Hyrde had been as neutral as possible, but to see it from a point of view of someone who'd actually chosen at the beginning…

Fights, training, degradation…he'd pushed her so hard because he felt like he wasn't enough…he felt lost and inadequate without Bell and Patch and their easy, lively relationship…hours of just holding each other. The LOSS. Grief struck her anew and her coolant system heaved in agony, straining to relieve her overworked system. That stopped her. He'd know what information she accessed. She stopped her searching as just lay back, staring at him in a final understanding. Respect. Regard.

It still irritated the slag out of her that he dangled so damned much instead of giving her the stories and memories she's always craved. She'd never be what she was, but he'd given her enough that she realized that was okay. She knew what weapons she had, how to use them…had the training files to back them up now. There was so much she'd never know of her own thoughts, but…well…

He watched Joyride freeze while processing the masses of information she'd acquired. Eons of memories filtered through his optics overlapping the femme's image. Fear overlapped everything and tinged the files he fought so desperately to hide with a dark veneer of desperation. At least she hadn't found the worst of those memories. The memory of the slaughter he'd created and maintained in loving detail was hidden safely away. That beauty had earned him a good part of his reputation and rank, but he was still the only witness and reality was so much more… real. Files flew through his processor as he re-sorted to attempt some kind of control. Snippets, highlights, impressions, feelings, he bundled them tighter and tighter, compressing them under layers of more vivid and alluring images in case she made it that far, hiding the true reasons for his leaving her there and claiming her dead. The cowardice, lacing its way like fibers of glass, was under layers of battle-lust buried under disgust all cocooned around the shard of truth about what she meant to the war, but she didn't appear to make it that far. Guilt nearly stalled his processors. He estimated that she made it about as far as his frustration over training just into the first of his cowardly thoughts of leaving her before she pulled back. He could live with that. He new himself to be a coward anyway, it seemed only fitting that she would as well. He sat back and waited for her to drop the connection.

" Have ya' had yer fill yet?" His deadpan expression fought to crumble, but his anger was the only thing he had left to fight the pain. He couldn't bring himself to vent his anger on her right now. All he could do was endure…

She smiled and chuckled. "Not in a million vorns, Jet." It didn't feel right, what she'd taken didn't feel like enough, but it would have to be for now. "It's getting late, let me up." They tangled through the array of limbs and wings and found their way up to standing, staring at each other awkwardly. She didn't want to leave him just yet… "My crew's around, if you want to meet any of them. See who you left me with…" It was so strange. The more she found out about herself, the more this mech meant to her. And yet there was so much missing. It was harder to look at him without just flat-out staring, now. So many of his emotions were layered on top of what he'd known or seen of hers…

"'Ride, I'd…" He leaned forward and tilted his head a bit to see her optics more clearly. "I'd love ta meet the bots who've take'n care o' ya" He flinched a bit at the statement but covered quickly. "If n'thin else, I may owe 'em an apology or something" He grinned as the statement sunk in. "If not fer inflicktin' ya on 'em in the f'rst place, then definitely fer the fightin knowledge I gave back to ya today." He gave a ghost of a grin as he reached up and relatched her neck panel. Deft fingers brushed over her connections as he placed a tiny implant into her secondary systems.

No one, including her, would ever detect it without trying to hack into her systems from that direction. He cycled his intakes deeply again. This was beginning to become a habit around her. The chip would feed her, bit by bit, the information he'd intended to give her in the first place. It may duplicate some of what she had already obtained, but all the better to make her think her systems were just making sense of the garbled mess she was working through.

Some of that information was enough to ensure that she had better access to her battle training, but some of it… "Well, lead on 'Crunch… or w'ever they call ya'!" This teasing was the thing that made him finally give in and grin. Some of what he'd given her was pure memories, times between just the two of them, times before with Bell, Dispatch, and himself.

It was selfish of him he knew, but what could he say? He was still a Decepticon. "I still can' b'lieve they ever trusted ya' enough to try ya' pilot'in skills after seeing ya fall all over y'self. What? Were they desperate?" Things weren't perfect, but they were better. At least her smile said so.

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